


Adore

by ColorZPrincezZ



Series: Adore Life [1]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Based on a Tom update on instagram, Based on a song, Escort Peter Parker, F/M, I Wrote This On My Phone, M/M, Peter is happy, Peter loves everyone, Sugar Baby Peter Parker, and i keep turtoring you and me by writing in english, and they all love him back, in his own way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-20
Updated: 2019-08-20
Packaged: 2020-09-18 23:17:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20321170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ColorZPrincezZ/pseuds/ColorZPrincezZ
Summary: “You are meant to adore life.”Peaks of Peter’s life.





	Adore

**Author's Note:**

> My brain is killing me on eating to write something since Peter’s birthday but work and random sadness —plus still no internet— have me on wanting mode but not enough energy to write. 
> 
> But after Tom’s update I had to do something. It would be nice if you listen to Savages— Adore.

** Adore  **

_You are meant to adore life._

Peaks of Peter’s life. 

_Bruce_— Bruce has never done much more than touch him. The man was too scared, too conscious of his own needs and desires to let himself go at Peter’s presence. That’s why Peter fucks himself on Bruce’s bed. 

Nice and slow under dim lights, tempting, putting on a show. His pleasure building —one touch a time, one gasp and one moan— warmly between his legs; growing gingerly in his belly. Peter always smiled dopey, sleepy afterwards. It was a shocked delight the first time Bruce let him have a taste. Wondering eyes, waiting, wanting; Peter gave Bruce one of his laziest, messiest blowjobs he could manner— all drool and shiny rosy pink cheeks with heavy tongues and soft purring; giggling at the doctors embarrassment for painting him with sticky colors. 

_Natalia And James_— Sharing a light outside a club he worked one night on a event had let to hours of infinity stories, Peter wasn’t gonna lie, he felt a tad freaked out when a silky voice rang in a unknown number and more surprised to remember the beautiful red head he had wished to steal a kiss from, but she wasn’t alone. No, he was with her. The man with the eyes that remained him of winter: cold and piercing with a spark. Peter imagined something freaky weird and exciting, maybe some bonding and sensor play— James has told him much, he needed to be grounded. 

“Ghosts.” She said. Peter was eager to know the truth. What he got were afternoons on the beach, late nights at Coney Island park with lukewarm chocolate and breaking dawns where he would braid James’ hair. Of course, on the rare, unexpected, distant nights when he would be needy, Natalia would let him ride her thighs, James would play him on his fingers and Peter will fuck himself desperately, whining high, enjoying the soft sighs of the couple and burst with the feeling of pecks on his cheeks. James would never claim him but he didn’t need to; all his desire was meant to Natalia. Peter was certain of it by stealing glances that left him feeling ashamed. 

_Stephen_— Stephen always made him smile; the sneaky bastard loved to tease Peter in every gala and by being someone who claimed to hate those kind of things, Stephen was constantly invited to parties, dinners, fundraisers and more. 

One thing Peter loved about Strange was all the subtle touches —flaming and scorching his skin and ego—; a ghost feeling of hands on his back and down south, a warm breath near his ear when speaking and there was nothing like the soft kisses on his forehead. Peter loved kissing and Stephen let him have his way. 

Stealing pecks to his cheeks when a pushy new debutant started to annoy the man and full make out sessions in front of the bathroom’s door just to see the scandalize faces of the ladies —and some men— who tried to look down on him or anyone who seemed to be out of place. Stephen called him a naughty Robin Hood; inspiring other youths to say FUCK OFF to social norms and formalities. His night always ended with a blissful kiss in front of his door, sometimes Peter wanted for Stephen to let his inhibitions go and take him right there —as much as the man seemed to crave—. Who had thought Peter had an exhibitionism kink?

And _Mr. Stark_— Mister Stark was a mystery and by all means his favorite all though meeting the man was a mere accident. Peter was about to go and save Stephen from another Gala, the surgeon had suffered long and he was underdressed enough to make people around him uncomfortable. Stark took his lift while Peter was snapping a selfie on the elevator; Stark had made no comment but one perfectly arched eyebrow made Peter flash an innocent smile to be left out of trouble. After that, running into Tony Stark was his highlight on his monthly schedule until he realized there was no coincidence, Tony knew where to find him but never went overboard with his knowledge. 

Peter sat on top of the kitchen’s counter in some fancy hotel eating mushrooms and shrimps leftovers when Tony walked in; Peter felt embarrassed and giggled shyly, so as an apology for his behavior —spoiling the man’s obvious plans on deflecting—, Peter served Tony another drink. How did that evolve into being wantonly and harshly fucked on to the counter? He wasn’t sure of it but he was grateful anyway. 

Tony was like a parachute, dropping on and off his life filling his days with a sparkly surprise and in all thoughtfulness never clashed with his other dates, with the other people in his life. 

“Why do you do it?” Stark asked once. They were on a rooftop, Peter smoked absently; the night was chilly and he did not want to go back, the music was tiresome and conversations rather boring. He could grasp a better light out there in the open. And Stark asked about his life. 

Peter didn’t need the money fervently, he was spoiled enough by all his dates whether or not they could meet on daily basic or any other arrangement they had settled for. Bruce gave him unpublished books or first editions. Stephen mailed him jewelry or detail clothes— something that assured him the doctor had thought of him; James gifted him drawings and Natalia killed his phone with so many random photos and videos of anything —but mostly James, definitely mostly James— that sometimes he couldn’t keep up with everything due to work or extra classes. 

“Normal life.” They all said. Peter needed some normality in his life; with all those things and more without taking in account the fat —dayly, weekly, monthly— deposits and extras. They never specified extras. 

“Because is fun.” He said. Because he adores his life. He loved all the people in his life and how happy they made him. “Fucking is just a bonus, mr. Stark.” Peter looked honest and happy and maybe a little in love. “I get to tinker your brain and get under your skin.” Peter let his pajamas loose in one go. “I get to love you, Tony.” A half shy smirk or maybe an almost naked glance. “Fucking you is my pleasure.” 

Yes. On the contrary of what everyone else thought, Peter was not a wake up call always on hold for a whispered, mindless shag, a shameful fuck. He was not a piece of meat for people to taste while in reality sharing their beds is his choice and taking their pleasure is his delight. Because he adores all of them. 

He adores life. 


End file.
